


Awake

by startwithsparks



Series: MMOM 2012 [3]
Category: Deadpool (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weasel gets some valuable time to himself first thing in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awake

It was hard to tell some mornings whether it was actually morning at all with the heavy black-out curtains Weasel kept drawn over the windows, but on that morning, a tiny sliver of light managed to cut through and fall right across Weasel's face. He woke up steadily, opening his eyes and glaring at the light where it splashed across his ceiling. It was a more invasive intrusion than having Wade suddenly burst into the room demanding whatever food group he'd formed an unhealthy attachment with this week. He reached over his head, fumbled for his glasses on the desk behind him, and pressed them on his face. A quick glance to the side confirmed that Bob was still out cold in the pile of pillows and blankets he'd hoarded in the course of the night, so Weasel had no guilt about rolling out of bed and staggering over to his desk.

He slumped down in his chair, the leather feeling weird and unnatural against his skin as he tried to wake up. He dug into the box of Mountain Dew under the desk and pulled one out, cracking it open as quietly as he could and draining about half of it while his computer booted up. He had no idea what time it was, the alarm clock was buried under a pile of clothes somewhere and he didn't care enough to dig it out. He just waited for his desktop to pop up, blinked at the bleary numbers at the corner of the screen and rubbed his hand across his eyes. Aside from the whirring of fans in the tower next to his legs, the apartment was dead silent, he even checked to see if Wade's bike was still sitting outside to make sure they hadn't been abandoned their for some early-morning job. 

For anyone else, this might seem like prime productivity time, but Weasel could really only think of one thing he wanted to do with it. He swiveled around briefly to make sure Bob was still asleep, then pushed down the front of his boxers to pull himself out. There was no sense in wasting the best erection of the day, and he didn't really get a lot of opportunities to simply handle himself. Sure, he could let Bob do it for him, but Bob was sleeping and since he was the one forced to go on jobs with Wade, he needed the sleep a lot more than Weasel needed a capable hand (or mouth, or whatever) at the moment. 

He tipped the chair back a little, sliding forward and spreading his legs as wide as the arms of the chair would allow. Hooking his thumb in the waistband of his boxers, he tugged them down further and started stroking steadily. The sun didn't really bother him anymore once he tipped his head back, dragging his lower lip between his teeth and trying to hold back heavy moans, though he could still feel the heat slicing across his right shoulder and up his neck; it was actually kind of nice now that he was awake, it felt indulgent to jerk off in the sun even if it was the most miniscule sliver of sunlight that ever entered that room. 

Weasel finally turned away from the bed – it was Wade-level creepy to jerk off while watching his boyfriend sleep – and stared at his computer screen instead, which was understandably a much more comfortable position to jerk off in. He wasn't really paying attention to anything other than taking his time while he had it, and didn't hear the rustling of blankets behind him or catch Bob propping his chin on end of the bed, rubbing bleary eyes and watching. He wouldn't have stopped if he did notice, but he was too wrapped up in himself to register anything other than the deep twist of tension, building quicker now that he started to stroke faster. 

The chair squeaked under him as he braced his feet against the floor, arching forward a little. It didn't make any difference to how hard he stroked, it just drew the tension out through more muscles and sent him crashing over a lot harder than he might have if he drew this out longer. It wasn't until he turned to reach to a tissue on the other end of the desk that he caught Bob, on his stomach with his arms folded under his chin, staring at him. 

"Morning," he muttered over his arm, ducking his head as he tried to clean the mess off his chest and stomach. 

" _Good_ morning, apparently," Bob said, flashing that big, dopey smile of his. "How long have you been up?" 

"Up or awake?" Weasel asked, biting back a smirk.

Bob rolled his eyes, "Awake, stupid." 

Weasel lobbed the tissue towards the waste basket next to the desk – and actually made it too – then swiveled his chair around to look at his boyfriend. "I don't know, ten minutes?" he shrugged and tucked himself away again.

"I want to go to McDonald’s," Bob announced cheerfully, kicking off the blankets and reaching over the end of the bed for his jeans. "If we get there soon enough they'll still be serving breakfast. I want bacon." 

"Of course you do," Weasel shook his head. "You and Wade, and your fascination with pig-products..." 

Bob leaned over the end of the bed, searching for a kiss. "I think that makes you the weird one this time," he offered, grinning when Weasel grudgingly leaned over and pressed their lips together. He was up quickly, though, searching for a pair of jeans in the clutter. 

"I don't know you're so perky first thing in the morning," he said, shaking his head.

"Pretty sure that you were way perkier, actually."


End file.
